Of Cats and Dogs
by applestooapples
Summary: Elle, she thinks, is positively feline in everything she does. Emily reminds her more of a golden retriever. Now that she's got everyone else all nice and sorted, where does that leave JJ?


**I was VERY hesitant about writing this and posting it, mainly because I usually don't trust myself to write for certain fandoms (Criminal Minds included), but it's now 6:30 in the morning and I've been running on approximately 12 ounces of store-bought caramel macchiato for the past…well, tonight, and when I'm tired and a bit out of it is when I do my best work, so hopefully this isn't too completely horrible.**

**Please review!**

* * *

**of cats and dogs**

**Elle/JJ, Emily/JJ**

* * *

It doesn't surprise JJ when Elle hands in her badge and her gun.

It doesn't surprise her when she refuses to confirm or rebut the rumors that she'd shot a man in cold blood, either.

Elle's always been cold, except when she's not.

And when she's not, she's hot—hotter than hell, hot in every possible slant, connotation or insinuation of the word. When Elle's hot, she burns brighter than the sun, whether she's angrier than a spitting cobra or sexy in a way that JJ can only describe as positively feline.

And she is—feline, that is. She hunts like a panther, silent as a shadow—smiles like a lion, proud and just a little bit smug.

She even _sleeps_ like a cat, carefree and seemingly boneless, even after the most trying cases. JJ can't count the number of times she's climbed into the jet and found Elle already there, stretched across an entire row of seats, slender legs dangling over the (actually quite uncomfortable-looking) armrest, arms splayed out in odd directions, the only sign of life being the odd snores that come at random intervals (JJ secretly finds it both adorable and terribly obnoxious that the sexiest woman on the team—and possibly ever in the history of the Bureau—sleeps like a man and somehow makes it _work _for her).

Elle even, JJ finds out that one night (that _one _night), _loves _like a cat (again, not in the literal sense—at least, as far as JJ knows, having never actually engaged in inter-species hanky-panky herself).

Everything, from her soft, almost hesitant (yet infuriatingly confident) touches to the smug little half-asleep smile she always wears after, absolutely _reeks _of cat.

And just like a cat, Elle's always slipping away, be it through a back door or JJ's desperate fingertips. Just like a cat, Elle comes around when she wants to and never a moment sooner—never stays a moment longer. Just like a cat, she never cares about JJ's life or feelings—never once attempts to sort out the mess they'd created between them (and all the better, JJ will think at some point in the not-so-distant future)—but grows fiercely territorial whenever she feels threatened by someone new (an outsider).

Because just like a cat, Elle's always too proud (too stubborn) to want anything more than a pretty fuck-toy, and at the same time, just like a cat, Elle _needs _somebody. Elle never learned how to take care of herself, not really. Physically, she's unstoppable, of course. Emotionally—well, her tongue is sharper than some knives JJ's had pointed at her throat.

But when Elle gets distracted by a case, she doesn't sleep. She forgets to eat. She wears herself like a pair of old shoes that she's too stubborn to replace when the soles run thin, and often she doesn't even realize it until they're back at the hotel and she passes out in JJ's arms before they even pop the first beer.

Elle, JJ decides, is just like a housecat—desperately needing independence and space and freedom, yet tragically unable to care for herself at the expense of her own health (and even more tragically unaware of that fact). JJ never says anything, of course, because she knows Elle hates it—knows Elle doesn't _want _her as anything more than a multi-night stand but desperately _needs _her as a caretaker. She knows it frustrates Elle to no end when JJ forces her to eat or to sleep or even to just stop _thinking _every once in a while.

She also knows that if she didn't, nobody else would, and Elle would run herself to the ground and right through it without ever realizing it until she ran herself dead.

* * *

So no, it doesn't really surprise JJ at all when Elle loses it just a little bit after being attacked in her own home (though secretly she thinks maybe it has a bit more to do with Elle having been unable to protect herself—Elle's proud, oftentimes to a fault).

It doesn't really surprise JJ when she never sees Elle again after that, either.

It does, however, surprise JJ when she can't stop caring about Elle—who never cared about anyone, especially not JJ—and wondering if she'll find someone else to take care of her.

Because surely, JJ realizes (albeit reluctantly—she's often stated that she hates being surrounded by profilers, particularly when it affects her own ability to delude herself), there had been others before her.

Sometimes she wonders if Elle is even alive out there, because as much as she always loved to fancy herself a tiger or a lion or even a stray, JJ knows Elle was always a housecat—indifferent, smart, quick, but tragically unable to defend herself against her own needs.

* * *

Emily is different.

She's meant to replace Elle (even though nobody wants to say it) and JJ dives right in with shackles raised and head lowered only to be ridiculously taken aback when she meets no resistance.

If Elle was a cat, Emily's more of a golden retriever—powerful, capable and at the same time endlessly gentle and soft-hearted and loyal to a fault.

Emily's nothing like Elle.

When Emily smirks at her, it doesn't feel like a challenge—it feels playful, almost like affectionate teasing. When Emily's hurt or upset, her eyes don't freeze over and her tongue doesn't cut like a machete; she just looks at JJ with those big, brown eyes that remind the blonde so much of a dog who doesn't know what he's done wrong.

Emily's gentle—soft where Elle was hard. Emily, JJ knows from that very first touch, loves her—would die for her without a second thought. When Emily feels threatened (usually by Will, and JJ just doesn't know how to handle it because Emily clearly wants what seemed to literally _repulse_ Elle), she doesn't whip out her claws or start spitting venom; instead she reacts much like a child, lashing out and defending what she considers to be hers on impulse, and then skulking petulantly around the Bureau once the threat is dissipated.

A jealous Emily, subsequently, is not nearly as easy to deal with as a jealous Elle was. All Elle ever needed was to reclaim what was hers—to mark her territory in the form of large, painful (in the most delicious way) red splotches around JJ's collarbone. Emily, on the other hand, shies away from JJ—sulks like a child or like a puppy who's been kicked.

Even accounting for that inconvenience, though, Emily should, for all intents and purposes, be easier for JJ to deal with (only that doesn't sound right in Emily's case, even though it always used to fit when it was Elle) than Elle was on her best day.

But Elle, she realizes one day, at a very inopportune time, as they're currently in the middle of a rather nasty case, being so very feline in personality and so many other aspects, hadn't required much of JJ at all, right when it came down to it. Sure, she'd required care and nagging and other material things, but those things have suddenly started to seem so petty now, with Emily and her feelings (something JJ never had to learn to handle).

Despite the exhaustion the…whatever it is they have, whatever it was she used to have with Elle…causes, every time JJ thinks maybe it would be easier just to be on her own like so was for so long after Elle, Emily effortlessly reels her back in with one of her multitude of (unfairly, JJ thinks) magnetic traits.

Emily is protective in a way that Elle never was—it seems to come naturally to her, almost like it would a German Shepard or (at times) a Rottweiler—and JJ catches herself swooning every time in spite of herself. Emily _cares_ (sometimes a little too much for her own good), and about _everyone_. Emily has a soft, open heart where Elle's was always frozen over and covered by an impenetrable shield of diamond just to be safe. Even when she's jealous and insecure (a supposedly ugly quality), JJ finds herself fighting back the impulse to just fall into Emily's arms and beg her to be the only one she needs.

And it's because she _cares_. Even when she's territorial and a bit too open, somewhere deep inside, JJ knows it's just because she cares—because she _loves_ JJ in a way Elle never did (never _could_, JJ thinks, to be fair).

And sometimes, despite the harsh chastising she's bound to give herself the second the thought crosses her mind, JJ lets herself wonder if it would really be so terrible if she let herself love Emily too. Emily is, after all, great with kids (and Henry just absolutely _adores _her), and she and Will have been drifting apart for a long time now.

But the thought is quelled almost instantaneously—JJ never gives herself a chance to dwell, even just for a moment, no matter how desperately she wants to.

Because people, she learned a long time ago (on that _one _night, the one with too much liquor and tension and stupid choices and _Elle_), are just animals who've learned to hide their feelings and base instincts a little better. People are fickle—people's minds aren't changed by tears or begging or pleading for them to stay. People throw the word 'forever' around like it's garbage and, even worse, 'love' around like it's candy at a parade. People grow up believing that promises are meant to be kept and that love is meant to last, and then people are the first to teach people otherwise. People love you until they don't, and the people we lean on the hardest are rarely as strong as they seem.

Elle had taught JJ those things (even though JJ always knew Elle never loved her, there was always a tiny, stupid part of her, permanently stuck in the seventh grade, that had always hoped) a long time ago, and the lessons had only been reinforced in the time spent between the Elle years and the Emily years, with JJ herself serving as the main reminder.

She looks in Emily's eyes now and sees just the tiniest reflection of herself in them, always searching, always hoping, always _loving_, and sometimes she wonders if that's what Elle saw when she looked at JJ all those years ago.

* * *

So Elle had been a cat and Emily, a dog.

What then, does that leave JJ?

* * *

A mouse, she finally decides one night after Emily stomps pointedly out of the hotel room they're sharing (because hotel vacancies don't always fit so cleanly with their jumpy schedule) in one of her jealous fits because she'd _begged _JJ to leave Will—all but promised her the _world_ if she'd just choose Emily—and JJ had (once again) turned her down.

A flighty, cowardly, permanently twitchy little creature who had allowed one experience to become so engrained into her memory—to take up such a huge space in her heart (a shriveled, scared little thing that only had so much room left in it)—that she was utterly _terrified _of any situation remotely similar.

* * *

It's not until Garcia barges into her room and literally drags her to the jet (because it's eleven in the morning and they were supposed to be back at Quantico by now) that JJ decides she doesn't particularly _want _to be a mouse.

* * *

She sits across from Emily once she's out of Garcia's death-grip, and Emily shoots her a wounded look like JJ's just kicked her puppy to death, and JJ's insides wrench in a kind of guilt so intense that it makes her feel physically ill.

She figures she deserves it.

"Hey."

The texture of her own voice—rough, bumpy, nearly incomprehinsible—actually shocks her, and she's speechless for a moment until she realizes that Emily's looking up at her, one eyebrow cocked.

"Hey."

Emily's voice is soft, and even though her tone is hurt, JJ is shocked to note that there's still a certain level of concern hidden within it.

"I-"

She fumbles, because _shit_, she doesn't know how to deal with the whole 'disappointment' thing. She'd always thought it was a bunch of BS when people would say that the disappointment was worse than the anger—it seems that, like so many other things, that's just another thing she's been wrong about.

"Iloveyou."

She doesn't mean to say it—the words just slip out. She'd sat back and let her mind do the talking (because her mouth obviously doesn't know what to say anymore) and now she feels as though she's wearing all her organs inside out, just putting them on display next to a giant sign that says, "Hit me!".

But Emily doesn't hit her—doesn't take a sheet of sandpaper to her raw skin.

Emily shifts so that she's sitting in the seat next to JJ and just _holds _her, her heart beating loudly against JJ's ear. It's fast, her heartbeat; it's fast, but it's steady, pumping out a single, unwavering beat in time to JJ's own arrhythmic heart.

She feels a firm pressure against the top of her head, and suddenly Emily's pulling away, and for a second she's terrified she's going to look up and see Elle again, with her cat-like eyes and lion's smile. But when she finally scrapes together the courage to open her eyes (which have been squeezed tightly shut since Emily switched seats) and meet the brown ones gazing back at her, they're not the cold, hard orbs that she expected for that split second of doubt.

And it's not Elle staring back at her with icy indifference; it's Emily, and she's smiling like JJ's never seen before, and her eyes are warm and caring and seem to say, "I'll never leave."

(It's only after that JJ realizes it was Emily saying that, not her eyes, but it's just a fleeting thought as she drifts into unconsciousness against Emily's chest, held securely in Emily's arms.)

* * *

It's only after they get back at one in the morning and Emily insists on introducing her to Sergio, her 'favorite man' (and for a moment JJ's irrationally jealous—until Emily's 'favorite man' takes a liking to JJ and claims her lap) that JJ realizes maybe people don't have to be sorted or labeled to be understood. Maybe not all cats are cold and confused and just a little bit cruel, and maybe not all dogs are loyal and protective and just a little too soft-hearted for their own good.

Maybe Elle is just _Elle _and Emily is just _Emily _and maybe this is just JJ finally getting it right.

* * *

**I never liked Elle—a little bit because she's WAY prettier than I'll ever hope to be, but mostly because she's just kind of a bitch. But this seemed like a semi-okay story concept, so I went with it. I find that the pairings I enjoy are rarely ones I'm any good at writing…**

**Anyway, I'm very nervous about this piece, so please, review if you enjoyed it—it really does motivate me. If I don't get any reviews on this…I guess I'm just right about being sucky at Criminal Minds fanfiction :P**


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